The Trouble with Pack Rats
by Apapazukamori
Summary: A trip to the temple storeroom does not end well. Rating is for language, light BL content. Yuuri/Murata, one-sided Shinou/Murata.


**The Trouble with Pack-Rats**

"Y'know, I know the temple's a billion years old or something, but do you really need all this stuff?"

"I am _not_ a 'billion years old'," the Shinou insisted, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

Murata rolled his eyes at them both. "It's all either valuable, historically significant, or much too dangerous to let out of sight," he explained for what was probably the tenth time. Shibuya was always surprised at the size of the temple storerooms, despite having visited more than once. The question was starting to get tiresome.

The young king stepped over to one of the dust-laden shelves and examined the contents. Glass jars containing various body parts -- human, Mazoku or other -- lined this particular set of storage racks. Shibuya seemed to turn slightly green in the torchlight and stepped back. "How are _those_ important?!" he demanded, flailing at a jar with a pair of severed hands floating inside. Murata blew gently on the top of it and, coughing slightly, examined the label.

"'Gustav the Magnificent'," he read aloud. "Ah, he was the tenth Maou's royal harpsichord player, I think..." he glanced at the Shinou for confirmation and the blond nodded. The shade had given no explanation as to why he felt the need to tag along with them, but -- as usual -- did as he liked without deigning to ask permission. Murata glanced over at Shibuya. "A world-renowned prodigy, but he died in a horrible carriage accident. The Maou probably asked to preserve his hands for posterity."

"... you people are weird," Shibuya muttered, inching away from the shelves. "Let's just get what you're looking for and get out of here."

"Pity the greatest Maou since, well, me is frightened by such things," the Shinou said with a grin that implied he felt anything but pity. "Let us hope the enemy never finds out. What an embarrassment _that_ would be."

"HEY!" Shibuya glared at the spirit. "I'm not scared of them, I just think they're gross!"

"Perhaps you should wait upstairs, then. Leave us to our work."

Murata watched his friend bristle much like an angry cat and felt a headache forming. "Stop it, both of you." He turned down a new row of shelving and began to search for the scrying wand Ulrike had asked him to find. "Neither of you really needed to come in the first place."

"I just wanted to help," Shibuya replied, sounding pouty. He stepped over to stand beside Murata and pointed up. "Hey, what's that?"

The Sage followed where he pointed and saw the small, black, silk-covered box sitting amid a handful of what looked like stuffed animals -- in actuality, they were a rather insidious form of voodoo doll -- and frowned. Powder boxes belonged three rows over. "That's not supposed to be there." He reached up to take it down off the shelf. "I suppose one of the maidens moved it and forgot to put it back." His fingers brushed the box but it was just out of reach. He stood up on his toes.

"Here, let me get it," Shibuya stepped closer and reached up as well.

"Really, Shibuya, I can reach it."

"See? He doesn't need your help."

Murata promised himself he'd finally ask Ulrike if she knew where the exorcism manuals were kept as soon as they finished here. And then he'd gag Shibuya so thoroughly it would take a miracle to get the knots undone.

"Will you knock it off?!" Shibuya shouted. He turned to glare at the spirit and his shoulder bumped Murata's just enough to throw the Sage off balance. Murata stumbled sideways, and the box tumbled after him. The two landed in a rather impressive cloud of... something. Murata coughed and sputtered, eyes tearing up. He rubbed his face hard, especially his nose, which itched something awful. A funny, garbled sound was bothering him as well; low-pitched but loud and persistent. Another sound joined the first, more gravelly and not as loud. But still annoying.

He sneezed hard enough to hurt and slowly picked himself up. He couldn't see very well; everything seemed very blurry.

"Nya?"

--+--

Yuuri whirled around, halfway into his tirade at the Shinou, and stared at Murata. He was covered in a whitish powder, and rubbing at his nose. Actually, it didn't really look like rubbing so much as... _pawing_, his brain supplied, as Yuuri began to come to the horrifying conclusion that the noise he'd heard had come from his friend. "No... no way."

Murata blinked up at him, squinting behind his glasses and sneezing. Each sneeze raised a little cloud of powder that settled back down onto the teen's head. "Nya?"

"... oh _shit_."

"This is your fault."

"I didn't do _anything_!" Yuuri bent down and picked up the box that had fallen, and looked at the label on the top, squinting at the faded and difficult script. "E.. ess...ence of tab...by cat--What the hell do you need that for?!" He startled when Murata started hissing, backing up slowly. "Oh... um... crap..." he crouched down and held out his hand. "Um... sorry about that... here, kitty?" The Shinou snorted behind him and Yuuri felt his face turn red. He'd been warned repeatedly about the former king's rather blatant jealous streak, but he hadn't expected the guy to be such an _ass_ about it. Now, on top of everything, somehow he'd turned his friend into a cat. He stretched his hand out a little further, feeling really, really stupid. "Come on, Mur... um... kitty. It's okay, I won't hurt you."

Murata eyed him warily, then crept forward on all fours. As he sniffed Yuuri's hand, Yuuri prayed the other teen wouldn't remember anything when the powder wore off. Murata bumped his cheek against Yuuri's hand, then sat back on his heels, watching the young king expectantly.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. He supposed the best thing to do would be to get Murata to his room -- avoiding the maidens if at all possible. "Okay, look," he turned to face the Shinou, standing up slowly. "I want to get him upstairs and into his room, but I'm gonna need your help." Yuuri startled as he felt Murata rub up against the side of his leg, making a contented sort of purring sound in his throat. Before he could be distracted wondering about whether people were really built to actually purr like cats, Yuuri noticed the way the Shinou's expression darkened. He settled his hand on top of Murata's head -- which seemed to stop the rubbing but encourage the outboard motor noises -- and sighed. "He'll be pissed if he finds out we let people see him like this," he tried to reason. "Just run interference for me?"

"You run interference," the spirit said, tone flat.

"And what happens if he sees a mouse or something?" Yuuri's voice started to rise, but a bump against his knee forced him to bring his frustration under control. "Come on, please?"

The Shinou looked down at Murata for a long moment; the other teen didn't appear to know he was there at all. Even when a ghostly hand reached out to touch his head, Murata didn't move. With a sigh, the spirit stepped back. "Very well," he said softly. "I shall clear the way for you."

Yuuri felt a little pang of guilt as the spirit vanished without another word. He glanced at Murata, who looked up at him with squinty eyes. On a hunch, Yuuri reached down and pulled the other's glasses off. Murata stopped squinting and nuzzled his hand happily. Yuuri slipped the glasses into his jacket pocket and shook his head. "I'd take everything out of here and burn it, since you're not really able to stop me," he said wryly, watching his friend's head tilt to one side. "But you're the only one who knows if anything's gonna explode."

Murata decided a good answer to that was to lick the back of his own hand and start washing his face. Yuuri repressed the urge to cringe and tapped him lightly on the back of the head. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

--+--

"And... how did this happen?"

Yuuri sighed helplessly and settled in to explain things for a third time. Despite wanting to keep Murata's condition a secret, he did want to know when it was going to wear off. Gisela had seemed the best person to ask. But in order to summon Gisela, he'd needed Ulrike to let Conrad in. The Shinou had refused to help him beyond his initial request, and Murata seemed disinclined to be separated from Yuuri, so the little maiden had found out.

Conrad's reaction had been better than Ulrike's. Currently, the priestess was -- once again -- trying to hide her giggling behind her hands. Conrad simply looked bemused. While Yuuri retold the story -- leaving out the parts where he and the Shinou bickered and Murata yelled at them -- Murata dozed with his head on Yuuri's leg. The powder had long vanished from his friend's hair and clothes, but Yuuri still had the box, which he handed over to Gisela. The healer was clearly trying not to stare at what was, admittedly, a rather bizarre sight, as she looked over the black box. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty, I don't know much about this." She re-read the label and shook her head. "A better person to ask would be Anissina."

Yuuri wilted. "I was afraid of that." He cringed at the thought of what the inventor would want to do if she found out about this. At the movement, Murata stirred and blinked big, dark eyes at him, then righted himself and bumped his head under Yuuri's chin. Yuuri blushed and shooed him away. The waving fingers sent a much different signal to Murata, however, and his friend pounced, knocking Yuuri onto his side while he pinned the hand beneath both of his.

Ulrike exploded into a giggle fit. Gisela _stared_. Then she, too, covered her mouth with both hands.

Yuuri smacked his forehead. "Everyone out!" He waved his free hand frantically toward the door. "Go, get out if all you're going to do is laugh! And _do not_ tell Anissina about this!"

If anything, his indignation seemed to fuel their hilarity; he even heard one of Conrad's soft snorts of laughter. But, being good subjects -- at least on the _surface_ -- the three hyenas did as they were told. "I will remain outside, Your Majesty," Conrad said, voice laced with amusement. Yuuri threw his shoe at the door.

Murata hadn't budged. In fact, the other teenager seemed perfectly content to lay across Yuuri, chin resting on the king's pinned hand, and watch everything with the total lack of interest so typical of cats. Now that he seemed quite used to Yuuri, even the shouting hadn't startled him.

Yuuri sighed and rubbed his face. "This'd better wear off soon," he muttered. "But you're not allowed to kill anyone when you find out about this."

Murata nipped his hand in reply. Yuuri winced. "I didn't do it on purpose!" Murata glanced at him, then nuzzled his cheek against the injured spot. Yuuri found himself carding his free hand through his friend's hair. "Sorry, though."

As his fingers slid through the black strands, Murata's eyes drifted closed and the nuzzling stopped. He leaned his head a little into Yuuri's touch, making that purring noise again, only louder and more sustained than before. Despite himself, Yuuri laughed a little. "That hasn't changed, ne?" He shifted so he was laying on his back; the grip on his hand loosened enough for him to reclaim it, and he let it settle on Murata's back.

"Good kitty."

--+--

The Shinou watched as both young men slept on his Sage's bed, still arranged in that ridiculous position. Yuuri mumbled every so often and his fingers twitched, inadvertently coaxing a sigh from his Sage's lips. The spirit had to admit he was grateful to the powder for allowing his Sage a rare, uninterrupted sleep. To the powder, and, grudgingly, to Yuuri. Someone far less scrupulous might have sought to take advantage of the situation, and the Shinou would not have been able to stop it.

However, that did not mean he had to like seeing the darker, glove and sword-calloused fingers twined in his Sage's hair. Out of deference -- or perhaps just to keep him from watching -- the pair never carried on their affair within the temple. Though traveling to the castle was not impossible, the Shinou never had on the nights when he knew his Sage would be there. Out of deference... or perhaps just to keep from having to watch.

They bickered, the three of them. His Sage threatened to exorcise him and also break up with Yuuri at least once a week. Yuuri flustered easily and rushed to defend himself and his bond with the other youth. The Shinou poked at it, looked for holes, for instability and found none. Complete faith and fidelity. So like his Sage. Yuuri would never realize how fortunate he was.

He watched as his Sage stirred, then rose, propping himself up on one hand and pressing the other to his forehead. Whatever side effects of the power there were, they must have not been pleasant. The youth glanced around; at his position, location, and general status, confusion openly painted on his face. The Shinou wondered how much of the previous twelve hours he remembered, though it appeared the answer was "not a bit". His Sage looked down at Yuuri, whose hand still rested on his back, and frowned, then snorted when Yuuri muttered something the Shinou could not hear.

His Sage moved gingerly, as if not to wake the young king, and reoriented himself to lay alongside Yuuri; merely a hand's space between them. Suddenly, his Sage paused and sat up, looking around the room until his eyes found the Shinou where he hid, insubstantial, in a corner by the door. The youth made a face at him and mouthed "creepy stalker". Then he settled back down, pointed at the door, and closed his eyes.

The Shinou laughed, soundlessly, and decided to oblige.

After all, his Sage had looked for him, and had found him, and that was enough.

--+--

The next morning, Murata began making plans to cull the temple storeroom collection.

Starting with the powder boxes.


End file.
